I enjoy using my POZ Cock on as many NEG fuckholes as possible. I really get off on pumping my TOXIC JIZZ into an unsuspecting NEG. It thrills me.

Guys react so differently when they get the "news". Some get depressed. Some go berserk. I know one guy who killed himself. I could barely suppress a smile.

I used to be a Bottom, which is why I POZZED so quickly. Now I'm a TOP, not because of a change of heart--but because I do community service.

Do you realize there's a thousand Bottoms out there waiting to be bred, and not enough Tops to go around. I mean, right here in Indy, there are more than I can handle.

It's so hot to seed an UNSUSPECTING NEG--from raging queens--to sex police--to gay rights advocates--to teens barely out of puberty--to married dudes (doubly sweet if they share it with their spouses).

I strive to put a little excitement in their lives. Give them a MANLY cause to DIE for. And since most of them are closeted, EXPLAINING POZ challenges their intellects.

I meat my dudes online, reststops, the Bookstore, and the Baths. I'm amazed at the number of Fags out there, both bi and gay, who can't wait to get my Poz jizz up their mancunts. Course they don't know I'm Poz, and I don't tell `em. You play, you pay, I figure. I'd lie about it first. But they never ask. Most don't even mention condoms.

In the past few weeks, I've seeded 7 guys (three at the Baths, two at the Bookstore, and two I've met online). Oh, yeah, and in-between I've taken a few loads myself. Maybe NEG, maybe POZ. Like the others, I don't ask.

One morning, on my way to school, I stopped to see this guy I met online. I drive by his place twice a day. The dude, who emailed me his pic, just graduated from law school--25, great body. Soon as I got in his living room, he went down on me. As my poison precum dribbled down his chin, I got to thinking how nice it'd be to POZ my first Solicitor.

I thought of molding him into a total MANSLUT like myself, if I could do it without encumbrances. Life's too short for emotional entanglements. In my world faggots cum and go. They sicken, crawl off into a corner, and croak. So it's best not to form attachments. I know that sounds callous, but I didn't make the rules.

While I'm all this was running through my head, he got me nice and boned; and I pursued him into the bedroom. He got on hands and knees and offered me his AIDS-free ass.

I dropped my drawers, and as he stretched to reach a condom, I drilled him. He fell back to support himself, as I plowed him raw and bareback. I didn't have a lot of time to screw around, and before long my poison Jizz was spewing in his pvssy. As I came in him, the stupid Dude cried out, "Spray it on me man. Shoot all over me!"

I never let a charged load go to waste like that. But not wanting to upset his applecart, I pulled it out and milked my dick like I was cumming.

The horny dude beat off like mad and shot his cream all over his chest and stomach. I lapped up his uncontaminated seed. Since I'd skipped breakfast, the liquid protein, despite its infertility, flowed smoothly down my throat, silencing my growling stomach. Yum! Yum!

As I pulled up my jeans and pulled my tee back over my head, he started asking questions. Did I live with someone? Where I went to school. What was I studying? And so on.

Exasperated, I responded, "Dude, I'm in a hurry. I'm late for Class."

He looked hurt, and I knew I'd have to mend my fences. I kissed him and wrote down my number. I explained that my attendance hadn't been the most pristine, and that if I stuck around, there'd be dreadful consequences. Which in part was true, cause another load of Vermin was brewing in my balls, and if I tarried another minute I'd be dicking him again.

We made a date for Tuesday. After a lingering kiss which would surely would have soon led to things I was in a hurry to avoid, I departed. As I drove off, I prayed my toxic jizz had done its job. I pictured my malignant cum dripping from his manhole. He'd soon conclude I'd cum in him. But by Tuesday all would be forgiven and forgotten, his health concerns supplemented by his need to fuck again.

That night he called me. We mutually wished that Tuesday weren't so far away, though I had other obligations, like the Bookstore, Reststop, and what I hoped would be a raucously prolific Saturday-Sunday at the Baths.

I DREAMT of him that night. How tearfully he confided he was POZ, and how I feigned surprise. How I fucked him after that, ostensibly to show support, though my intent was reinfection. How I got him used to POZ on POZ, which, considering us, was easy. From there it was a Baby Step to POZ on NEG, as I enticed him into 3-ways at the Baths, till he was FUCKINGLY addicted.